


every doubt we had is coming undone

by thequeenofokay



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:14:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2430152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequeenofokay/pseuds/thequeenofokay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘I’ve discussed it with Coulson,’ she says. ‘You’re going to be joining me on my assignment.’</p>
<p>// ward has another new visitor. she decides he would be more useful elsewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	every doubt we had is coming undone

**Author's Note:**

> \+ well this is my first go at biospecialist? and i might write a sequel to this? we shall see.
> 
> \+ title from "two of us on the run" by lucius

He hasn’t counted the days in a long time. It was hard, without anything to use as a point of reference, but part of being a specialist was judging the passing of time.

But he’s given up on that now. It seems pointless, when all he has to wait for is Skye’s visits, with her bitter anger that she is slowly learning to control, or Fitz, the one time he came, so changed and vindictive. Both rightly so. He hurt them. And now it hurts, so much, when he sees them, but he deserves it.

The lights flicker on, and he sits up slowly in the bed, waiting to see Skye advancing down the stairs.

He’s wrong.

Simmons stops at the bottom. He can see shock in her face, but it isn’t quite the same look as the one in the eyes of Skye or Fitz when they first came down here.

‘Oh,’ she says. There’s no malice. Why isn't she angry? Why doesn't she want him dead, like everyone else on the team?

He stands up. He should say something. He should explain, like he did with Fitz.

But look how well that went.

‘What do you need?’ he asks eventually.

She doesn't answer. Not directly. ‘They said you were down here,’ she says. ‘Their asset.’

He's not really sure how to reply. She isn’t asking anything of him or shouting, simply making an observation, and he almost can’t remember how he’s supposed to respond. ‘I help. When I can.’

She takes another step into the room. ‘The lights,’ she says.’They were off.’

‘Yes,’ he agrees. ‘They’re motion sensitive.’

She nods, lips drawn in a tight line. ‘But they only detect motion on this side of the barrier.’

He doesn’t need to tell her she’s right. They both know it.

She picks up the tablet that controls the room, scrolls slowly through it.

For a second, he panics. He thinks she’s going to do what Fitz did. He feels like the air is already being sucked from the room.

She must see it. She puts it down and takes a step back. ‘Don't worry,’ she says. ‘I know what happened. I’m not here to do that.’ She tries to smile reassuringly and that, that throws him off more than anything.

To be treated like a person, not an asset or a weapon or a prisoner or dirt on the ground or a means to an end. The last time that happened was… was it back on the bus, before Hydra rose?

‘I haven’t seen you,’ he says, ‘not since...’ He doesn’t to go further. He’s not sure if he can go further, if he really wants to think of the choice he had to make when he was ordered to kill them.

‘I’ve been away.’ She's looking at him in a way that is almost analytical. ‘On an assignment.’

‘Are you okay?’ Maybe he asks too quickly, but it’s not like he has anything else to down here, except worry, constantly, about the safety of the team.

She laughs. ‘I can take care of myself now,’ she says. ‘I don’t need you there to catch me any more.’ She smiles, and then it falters, falls away.

(They’ve all changed, changed so much, and so much of it is his fault. And all he can do is watch.)

‘Good,’ he says. If she can protect herself, he might sleep a little better. As long as he doesn’t let his mind wander to what it might cost her.

‘What about you?’ she asks. ‘Are you… okay?’

He doesn’t answer. He can’t. He won’t lie to her, but he isn’t worth enough to give her the truth, that no, he’s not, but he wouldn’t know if her was, because he’s forgotten what okay feels like.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he says.

She nods, and turns away. ‘Thank you, Ward,’ she says. ‘For your time.’ And she leaves.

The door closes behind her, and darkness returns.

The time for it to open again is less than normal. Probably only hours rather than days or even weeks.

It’s Simmons again. She heads straight for the tablet in the centre of the room, finger tapping purposefully.

The barrier between them flickers away.

‘What are you doing?’ he asks, taking a step back.

‘Come on,’ she says. ‘We’re leaving.’

He doesn’t move. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ve discussed it with Coulson,’ she says. ‘You’re going to be joining me on my assignment.’

‘No,’ he says. ‘You can’t. You can’t let me out. What if I hurt you?’

‘Were you planning on it?’ she asks.

‘No, but--’

‘Then why should I be worried?’

‘But how do you know you can trust me?’

She doesn’t say anything for a minute, and when she does, she doesn’t look at him. ‘It was supposed to float,’ she says slowly. ‘And logically I know that you didn’t want me dead and that recently you’ve been helping the team in every way you can since.’

She moves to the stairs and waits. ‘Come on,’ she repeats. ‘The jet’s waiting.’

They don’t see anyone as they pass through the base, and Grant thinks he’s probably glad. They sit in the back of the plane and a Shield agent that he doesn’t recognise pilots them. They’re dropped off at an abandoned airfield, where there’s a car waiting.

Jemma scans it for tracers before she’s willing to drive off.

Grant settles in the passenger seat, watching out the window. ‘You never told me what the assignment was,’ he says.

‘Oh.’ She smiles. ‘I’ve infiltrated Hydra. I thought you might be useful on this one.’

‘You’ve _what_?’ He stares at her. ‘But that’s… _dangerous_. You can’t… if they catch you.’

‘Relax.’ She reached over and pats him on the shoulder. ‘Besides, they trust me. I received a promotion recently. And if it does get dangerous, I’ll have you to protect me now.’

He frowns at her. ‘But… how?’ He doesn’t want to insult her, but she’s a terrible liar. _Terrible_.

‘I’m better than you think, Ward,’ she says, looking a little proud of herself. Slowly, her expression draws into a frown and her voice goes quieter. ‘I didn’t tell you the whole reason that I trust you.’ She stares at the road ahead. ‘I know what it’s like, now, to be a liar. I haven’t done what you did, not yet. But I know what it feels like.’ She takes a deep breath and flexes her fingers on the steering wheel. ‘I’m being given the chance to do good research. I have friends in Hydra. People I care about. And every time I report back to Coulson I’m betraying them.’ She glances over at him. ‘You know what that’s like.’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s why I trust you.’

They arrive at her apartment after dark. Jemma pushes the key into the lock and turns, all the time checking over her shoulder. She steps into the apartment, flicking the lights on, and lets her bag down on the floor.

Grant stands by the door while she checks for bugs. ‘It’s still clean,’ she says. He can see a little tension leave her shoulders, and he steps a little further inside.

‘It’s nice,’ he says. ‘Um. Cute.’

She beams. ‘Thank you, Ward,’ she says. She’s putting the kettle on, grabbing tea from the cupboard and milk from the fridge. ‘Make yourself comfortable.’

He sits down at the table and murmurs a thank you when she hands him a mug. She slides in opposite, taking a sip from her own.

‘Now,’ she says. ‘I’ll discuss reinstating you into Hydra’s ranks when I’m at work tomorrow. I was thinking of trying to find you something non-combat, if possible, but it isn’t like you would be able to work in the scientific research division like me… communications maybe?’ She shrugs, and he can tell she’s thinking out loud rather than looking for an answer. ‘We’ll see. But I do have some pull in high up places, if I say so myself.’ She gives him a smug little smile, and he can’t help but smile back at her self confidence.

‘Sure,’ he says.

She hesitates. ‘This is okay with you, yes?’

‘I’ll do whatever you need.’

‘No. Are you okay with this?’ she asks.

He nods slowly. ‘Yes. I’m okay with this.’

‘Good.’ She stands up, taking her tea with her. She opens up her bag, rummaging carefully through. She produces a little bundle of clothing, neatly folded. ‘Here,’ she says, handing it to him. ‘I brought it from the Playground for you. It’s all I could find, so we’ll have to buy you some more for you soon.’

‘It’s fine,’ he says. ‘It’s good. Thank you.’

‘There’s only one bed--’ she starts, but he cuts her off.

‘I’ll sleep on the couch,’ he says. ‘I don’t mind.’

She looks like she might protest, but decides against it. She finishes her tea and sets it down by the sink. ‘Well then,’ she says. ‘I’m off to bed. Work in the morning.’ She pauses by the door to her room, looking over to Ward. ‘Is this better?’ she asks. He can see her uncertainty. ‘Be honest. Do you think you’ll be better here?’

He smiles, lets out something that might be a laugh. Anything, he wants to say, is better than that cell. Anywhere where he can see sunlight and be allowed even a sliver of freedom, whether he thinks he deserves it or not, is better. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Thank you.’

She smiles back and sighs. ‘Goodnight, Ward,’ she says.

‘Goodnight.’

 


End file.
